


In My Head

by nojamhands



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Luke speaks his mind finally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 06:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18614782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nojamhands/pseuds/nojamhands
Summary: A look inside Luke's brain during different tense moments between him and Lorelai.





	1. The Long Morrow

I’m standing on her lawn babbling (since when do I babble?) about her and my life and how the two have become one in the same; if those elements are not fused then I don’t know that I can simply exist. The desperation in my voice is evident, but the sincerity of my words is just as clear (I hope so anyway - I have to make her understand).  

As I continue to babble (seriously, who am I right now?), I notice her face, even though she is mostly staring at her feet. I think about how I have always been able to read her like a book, even more plainly than Rory, her own flesh and blood with whom she shares that freakish link. A little voice in the back of my head nags at me about how little effort I’ve put into reading her recently...and not so recently.  

The thought almost stops me in my tracks.  _Have I really been pushing her aside?_  I wonder.  _Surely she would have said something?_   

 _She did say something - remember last night, genius?_   

 _Before then_ , I argue with myself.  _Why didn’t she say something before then._   

 _Maybe_ _she tried_ , the voice is back.  _Or maybe she tried to let her actions speak._  

If my heart wasn’t racing before, it’s definitely racing now - like world record speed.  

Once this realization hits me, I make an earnest effort to really look at her. What I see makes my stomach turn over.  

There’s some anger, obviously. Then there’s the sadness, which is bad enough since I know I’m the one who caused it. But I also see...guilt? Shame? And that’s what makes me the most uncomfortable because the reason for it is completely unknown to me. What could she possibly be feeling guilty about? What does she have to be ashamed of?  

By this point I’m nearing the end of my diatribe, her interjections and all, and I say, “Let’s go. Let’s do this. Let’s get married right now. Let’s go,” and even with the sick feeling in my stomach and the pitiful look on her face, after everything that’s happened, I know that I mean it with every fiber in my being.  

“I slept with Christopher.”  

My ears hear words come out of her mouth, but my brain is slow on the uptake. I take a moment to process this information, but my head was playing it back in slow motion.  _What?_   

I didn’t initially realize I had actually uttered this aloud (seriously slow brain processing right now), but then I see her take a deep, steadying breath before she repeats her words.  

“I slept with Christopher.”  

 It’s like a thousand knives to my gut.  

The guilt. The shame. The wheels in my head are suddenly whirring at warp speed as all the pieces click together.  

“What?” This time I heard and understood perfectly, but I was completely in disbelief.  

“Luke…please don’t make me say it again,” she replies tiredly.  

I just stare at her. She stares back at the ground. I want to yell or to bolt, but it’s like my jaw is wired shut and my feet are nailed to this spot. I’m frozen.  

We might have stood there 30 seconds or it might have been 2 hours (time has eluded me at this point), but regardless it feels like an eternity before she finally, slowly but surely, brings her eyes up to meet mine. I can see everything in her expression - the anger, the sadness, the guilt, the shame - it’s all still there.  

As her eyes bore into mine, I also notice something new.  

Fear.  

She is afraid.  

Lorelai “Wonder Woman” Gilmore is afraid.  

Not only is she afraid, she is afraid of  _me_.  

That thought makes me even more nauseated. I can almost feel the bile start to rise up in my throat. I swallow to keep it at bay.  

I want to say something but don’t quite know where to start. My mind is running a mile a minute.  

 _She betrayed you in the worst possible way._  

 _She’s hurting in the worst possible way - that’s why she did this._  

 _She’s telling you she made her choice and it’s not you._  

 _Then why does she look so upset._  

 _Who cares - she went to him. She fucked him. She went straight into his arms as soon as she thought she was free of you._  

 _She didn’t know I was still in this._  

 _She doesn’t want you. She doesn’t care about you._  

 _If she didn’t care she wouldn’t be acting out_ _like this._  

 _She doesn’t want you. She doesn’t care about you._  

 _She isn’t the kind of person who would beg me to get married one minute then run off to reunite with... him the next._  

 _She doesn’t want you. She d-_  

“ENOUGH!!” I yell out loud. I can’t take this internal battle any more. Lorelai’s eyes widen at my outburst.  

“S-sorry...” I manage lamely. I want to elaborate but don’t know where to begin.  

She looks at me with a confused expression on her face. She’s wondering why I’m still here. Why I, Luke “King of the Rants” Danes, have barely reacted.  

I am wondering the same thing myself. But the answer pops into my head almost immediately, so naturally, as if this were a normal, run-of-the-mill interaction we are having, rather than the life or death situation that it is (it feels like life or death to me at least).  

I love her.  

She’s shattered my heart and broken my trust with what she has just told me, and she knows this.  

But I love her.  

And I sure as hell am not going to let her continue to self destruct because of me. She deserves better than what I have been giving her, that much is true, but she is so far beyond settling for a second-rate, mediocre life with...  _him_. No matter how badly she thinks she’s screwed up, in this instance and the many others I’m sure she would list because she is so unaware of how utterly magnificent she really is.  

It seems like a lot of time has passed (again, time is truly an illusion at this moment), but it’s really just been a couple of minutes since we started staring at each other. At one point she does cave and starts looking at the ground again.  

Once all this hits me, I hesitantly take a step toward her. Her head snaps up and her eyes are frightened. I stop. We go back to staring, and I try my best to convey my thoughts nonverbally, just with my eyes.  

Something must have registered in her brain because her face crumples, and the tears she has been fighting back silently begin to flow. I am almost immediately at her side and take her into my arms. She practically collapses into me, and I hold her tight, rubbing her back soothingly.  

“Lorelai…” I begin gently, but this just makes her cry harder for some reason, so I stay silent for awhile, other than the occasional, “Sshh…it’s okay…”  

After her sobs have quieted and her breath becomes more even again, I kiss the top of her head and say, “I love you.”  

She sucks in a sharp breath. I pull her away from me, holding her at arm's length. She won’t look at me, so I lift her chin up so she will meet my eyes. I look her straight in the face and repeat, “I love you,” then I add, “And I am so sorry.”  

It’s not until she pulls me into her embrace that I realize I’m crying (wait -  _I’m_ crying?!). We hold each other on her porch for god knows how long. It pains my heart when I think about how long it’s been since we have done this. I hold her even closer.  

Finally we break apart and wipe the salty moisture from our faces, both at a loss for words. She breaks the silence. “So…what now?”  

I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding. “Now... we talk,” I say simply, “And we don’t stop ever again. From here on out.”  

She still looks a little uncertain. “Does that mean…there is still going to be a ‘we’ from here on out?”  

I take her hand in mine, then bring it up to my mouth and place a kiss on her engagement ring.  

“I’ll spend the rest of my life making all of my mistakes up to you. I will do whatever it takes to fix what’s wrong. I will never leave. I will never think of leaving. This right here is all I will ever need. There will always be an us.”  

“Are you sure?” she says barely above a whisper.  

“Lorelai…I really, really screwed up. I know you like to think you’re the queen of screw ups, but if that’s the case then I’m the king. I’m the sultan. I’m the emperor. I’m the supreme leader of screwing up this relationship. I don’t know how it happened but I stopped seeing you. The one thing I always prided myself on, the one thing you could always count on, disappeared. Vanished! I have no good explanations or excuses because the bottom line is you didn’t deserve it. None of it. I got stuck in my own head so I went…’Lorelai blind’ and you will never know how sorry I am for that. So the question is not am I sure. It is: are you?”   

She gives me a small smile that dazzles me, just like everything she does. Just like she always has. And I know it’s going to be okay.  

There is going to be yelling and maybe screaming (probably in about five minutes). There will be doors slammed (probably in about 15 minutes). We will more than likely storm off somewhere and fume and want to smash something breakable (20 minutes). There will be more than a few tears shed (one minute).  

But we will figure this out, and we will always come home to one another. I will never spend another night alone in that apartment.  


	2. Red Light on the Wedding Night

_You're a damn fool,_  the voice in my head tells me. I try and hammer and carve and chisel harder to drown it out, this voice that's been pestering me about my actions the last few months.  

When the manual labor doesn't quite do the trick, I go through my list of reasons that this is a normal thing to do. 

 _She's my frie_ _nd — one of my_ **_best_ ** _friends._  

 _She would do the same (or her version of it) for me._  

 _She's done so much alone — she deserves a partner._  

The list goes on and on with her positive attributes and ultimately ends with:  

 _She deserves to be happy._  

The only problem is that the bottom part of the list tends to send me right back into  _you're a damn fool_. It’s a frustrating cycle, but hey if it helps me get this chuppah done on time, I think I can live with it for a few weeks more.  

 _She's getting married in a few weeks._  The voice never fails to remind me of the closeness of Lorelai’s upcoming nuptials to Max Medina.  _Soon the weeks will become only da_ _ys._  

The thought makes my stomach turn over. I stop working for a moment and take a deep breath in an attempt to release everything that I’m feeling. I close my eyes as I breathe out and remember her excitement when she came into the diner, yellow daisy in hand, chattering about “life changing stuff.” She was so happy. Ecstatic even. I suspected it all had something to do with Max, but even so, I kept the daisy in a water glass as a makeshift vase, a reminder of her joy and how she wanted to share a small part of it with me.  

 _She deserves to be happy._ I start to work again.  

* * *

When it's done, I maneuver it into the truck and deliver it to her.  

“What on earth inspired you to do this?” She asks, genuinely in awe of what's before her. 

 _You,_ I want to say.  

But, like always, I know I don't have the courage to say it, and now it's too late.  

“Well because you're getting married. You can’t just stand in the hot sun in the middle of a lawn that hasn't been mowed in weeks. I guess he doesn't mow?”  

 _Shit I shouldn'_ _t have said that,_ I scold myself internally—I have been trying to be better about making comments about her fiancé.  

Unsurprisingly, she calls me on this. I try to form some semblance of an apology when she asks me if I really meant all those things I said about marriage. I know I can't give her a straight answer, not without letting something slip, so we do our bantering thing. I notice that she is looking at me very intently, and I realize I have to be even more careful with my words.  

“Yeah if you find the right person,” she echoes my last statement, and something dangles in the air between us.  

We stand up to inspect the chuppah, Lorelai still in awe. “No one has ever made me a chuppah before.”  

Her words trigger a memory in my brain from the previous winter: 

 _No one has ever made me something quite this disgusting before_.

I smile a little at the memory of the Santa Burger, as well as the more positive aspects of the rest of that evening.  

I turn to look at her. She's breathtaking in her simple jeans and hoodie. “Well you only get married once. Theoretically.”  

We both look away from each other. “Yeah you only get married once,” she repeats.  

There’s something about two of us, after all the talks we have had, standing there beneath the chuppah, that makes this moment feel electric—charged with something.  

 _You only get married once._ Both our words swirl around in my head. I'm trying to forget the fact that right now I'm standing with her under this beautiful thing I've created, and in a few days she will be st anding under it with someone else.  _You only get married once._  

 _So don't marry him,_  I want to say.  _Don't marry him._ But how can I say this just days before her wedding? I can't. Even if I did, it wouldn't mean she would suddenly want to be with me. I'm not that presumptuous.  

But there's just something about the electricity in the air that feels like it's pushing me.  

Lorelai somehow senses my internal struggle. “Luke?”  

She's prompting me to say something, to give an explanation.  

 _She wants you to tell her._ _Tell her not to marry him. Don't marry him. Don't._  

The words start coming out before I can stop them. “Don't —” I catch myself from going any further. 

She raises an eyebrow at me. “Don't? Don't what?” 

“Don't marry him!” I blurt out. 

 _Oh fuck_.  

Her eyes narrow. “Excuse me?” 

 _Too late to take it back now_. 

I look at the ground and rub the back of my neck uncomfortably.  I take a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever is about to come next. 

“Lorelai…don't marry him. Just…don't.”  

She looks bewildered. “What do you mean don't marry him? Why not? Where is this coming from?” 

 _Lord beer me strength…._  

“Geez…I mean don't marry him. I could give you a million reasons why you shouldn't, but I'll just give you one: you don't want to. Listen, Lorelai, I love you but you're so wrapped up in this fantasy of having a wedding and a husband and a partner that you aren't really seeing this whole thing clearly. I'm sure Max really is a great guy, but that doesn't mean you have to be with him forever. I know you like him — and I'm not a feelings guy, so what do I know — but I don't think you love him. And I just don't want you to feel like you have to settle because you think this is the best offer, that this is the best it can get for you. You deserve to be happy.” 

As I hear these words play back in my head I realize I've made a critical error.  _Lorelai, I love you._  

 _Shit…fuck… maybe she didn't notice._  

My mind is in panic mode but I try to maintain a cool exterior.  

She is staring at me, leaving me wondering which particular piece of that little rant she has latched onto, praying it’s not those three little words.  

She brushes her hand over the carvings in the chuppah. “How did you make this?” 

This was not the response I expected. “Um…my dad taught me some woodworking stuff as a kid, and I, uh, got the picture out of a book.” 

“You said that already. But I don’t want to know how you **_made_** it, I want to know  ** _how_   _you_**   made  it.” 

“I’m sorry—what?” 

“How did you make me this wedding chuppah if you don't really want me to get married under it? Why?”  

“I do want you to get married under it — if that's what you want.”  

“So when you said ‘don't marry him’ what you meant was…?” 

I rub my temples in frustration. “I don't want you to marry him if it's not gonna make you happy. I don't know that it will, so I don't think you should. But hey I'm not a Vulcan, I don't know exactly how you feel or what you're thinking. So if you  _want_  to get married under it then I want you to get married under it!”  

“So you do want me to get married under it.” 

I roll my eyes. “Yes! If you want to get married, my intent was for you to get married under it.” 

“Just not to Max.”  

“What?”  

“You want me to get married under it, just not to Max because you think he doesn't make me happy.”  

“Lorelai, I just wanted you to have something nice for the wedding.” I don't want to talk about this any more. 

“A wedding you don't want me to have. So what is it Luke? Do you want me to get married to Max or not? Yes or no? Plain and simple.” 

 _No._  

I don't realize I actually said this out loud until her eyes widen just a fraction, as if she had not expected this response either.  

“No,” I say with more certainty. But she just stares at me like she's waiting for more.  “I don't want you to marry Max under the chuppah that I built for you,” I say this quietly and without looking at her.  

She turns toward me. “I want to get married under the chuppah that you built for me.” 

My heart drops for a moment before I realize our statements aren't quite the same. I close the minuscule  distance that remains between us so I can look directly into her eyes — eyes so blue I could drown in them. Does she know that they change color with her mood? Does she know what power they wield?  

“I want to get married under the chuppah that you built for me,” she repeats, barely above a whisper, but with our present closeness, I hear her perfectly.  

I slowly, hesitantly press my forehead against hers. “I want to get married under the chuppah that I built for you.” 

Her smile is shy at first, but quickly becomes a full grin — the smile that has dazzled me all these years.  

“I have a few things I should take care of first. Two phone calls and it's done.” 

“Two?” 

“Max and Miss Patty. Someone's got to inform the town, and she’ll have it done by the time I get off the phone with Max, if not before.”  

She goes into the house and I just stand there, dumbfounded by the events that have just transpired. Not ten minutes later she's coming back out saying, “All done!”  

She finally realizes I'm still standing in the front yard under the chuppah. “Luke?” She walks back over to me.  

“So…what just happened here? Did we just agree to get married?” 

Lorelai feigns shock. “Why Mister Danes! A proposal prior to our first date? I do declare!”  

I groan. “Lorelai….” 

She grabs my hand and intertwines her fingers with mine. “Yes, Luke. We’re going to get married under the chuppah. But let's give it some time for my broken engagement to wear off before we dive head first into marital bliss.”  

I chuckle. “In the meantime, then, how about we go on a few dates? Spend some time doing things couples do?” 

“Dirty!”  

I roll my eyes but my smile doesn't falter.  

She smiles right back at me. “Then after a few dates we’ll revisit this marriage thing. It doesn't seem so bad once you find the right person,” she says, echoing my words once more.  

 _Yeah once you’ve found the right person._  

She wraps her arm around mine and nestles her head into my chest. 

“Oh,” she says, “and I love you, too.”  

 _Ah. So she did notice._  


	3. Double Date

It has been a slow night at the diner, not all that unusual for a Sunday. The mornings are usually packed with the non-church going crowds while the afternoons are full of the church-goers. But Sunday nights are typically a bit quieter, with sporadic small groups of people over the course of a couple of hours as opposed to the consistent swarms throughout the daytime. The nightly flow (or lack thereof) is not so great for my income, but is very good for when I want to be alone with my thoughts.  

As is the norm, especially lately, my thoughts drift to a certain blue-eyed brunette with a problematic caffeine addiction. It’s become a ritual of sorts the last few months, where most days I find something to pull my thoughts in another direction, but Sundays I just let them be. Is it actually helpful? Not really. Do I tell myself it is? You bet.  

My thoughts shift for a moment as the only guests for the last hour finish sipping their coffee and walk to the counter to pay their bill. I give them an obligatory “thanks,” and a wave as they leave. With nothing better to do, I start wiping down the probably perfectly clean counter. Another half hour passes. One customer comes in and orders a salad. Easy enough. I go back to my spot behind the counter and continue to wipe it down, returning to my thoughts of Lorelai. 

I had heard whispers around town that she had broken up with the guy she had been seeing. No one seemed to be sure if she had been the one to break it off or if it had been him. All they knew was Lorelai and Max Medina were over.  

How it happened didn’t matter to me. My initial reaction was a rush of hope and a little bit of joy. This was fleeting, though, once I realized regardless of who had initiated the break-up, Lorelai would be hurting and upset. I have known her long enough to know that this was her first real relationship since….well, ever. I tried my best in the following weeks to hassle her a little less about her eating habits, and be compliant when it came to her little bits, but not enough to tip her off. I just wanted to make sure she knew I was there for her, without actually  _saying_  I was there for her, because that’s what friends do. They’re there for one another when the other gets dumped. I can’t help but wonder how different things would’ve been if Lorelai had been around all the times Rachel had left.  

 _Then again, if Lorelai had been around, you probably wouldn’t have even bothered with Rachel again,_  a voice in my head points out.  

Despite my best efforts, I can’t seem to extinguish the small feeling of hope inside of me.  

 _Now’s your chance,_  the voice says.  

This isn’t the first time that little voice has tried to urge me into action. But as the years have passed, it has become more difficult to find an opening, the right moment always seeming just out of reach.  

 _Coward_. It’s not the first time I’ve heard that, either.  

I’m wiping away at the counter, lost in my thoughts, when a small group enters the diner.  

It’s Lorelai, along with Sookie, Jackson, and an unpleasant looking guy I don’t know.  

I take in a sharp breath as she makes her way to the counter. She looks stunning.  

“Hey,” I greet her nonchalantly, like I haven’t been thinking about her for the last few hours.  

“Hey, four menus, a coffee and an anvil please.” 

I look at her questioningly. “What’s the anvil for?” 

“For Rune."

“What’s a Rune?” 

“Please not that question again.”  

“O…kay.” I pour her some coffee.  

I ask her about Sookie and Jackson. Apparently they’re on a first date, and Rune is Jackson’s cousin who was supposed to be Lorelai’s date.  

“Believe it or not, he’s even less thrilled with the match up than I am,” Lorelai says. 

“You’re kidding! Why?” 

“I’m too tall.” 

I scoff. “Get out!” 

“I’m serious!” 

Before I can stop myself, I say, “Doesn’t he understand how great that is? You can get all the stuff from the top shelf.” 

“Exactly. That is exactly what I bring to a relationship. Explain that to him will you.” 

I know she is joking, but I can't help thinking,  _I bet you bring so much more. I know you would._  

She continues to sip her coffee and chat with me. Once Rune storms out and Sookie and Jackson are alone, she decides to stay at the counter with me so the two of them can really have their date.  

We’re just starting a game of 5-card draw (in which she got two additional redraws), when we hear the couple laughing. We both look over and see them giggling and smiling like teenagers.  

“God that’s nice,” she says wistfully. “The whole ‘first date, beginning of the relationship’ glow - everything is new and exciting.” 

“Every joke is hilarious.” 

“Every little touch is incredible.”  

As she says this, she reaches over and touches my arm. My heart leaps into my throat, hammering wildly. I know I need to respond, but all I can manage to get out is a noncommittal, “Mm-hm.” 

“God that’s a good feeling.” 

I find my voice. “It is at that.” 

“I miss that.” 

I turn my head so I’m looking directly into her eyes.  

“You’ll have it again.” 

 _Did I really just say that?! Ah geez…_  

“Mmm...I guess.” She breaks eye contact, looking a little sadly just to the right of me.  

I don’t know if it’s the lighting or her hair or the fact that her best friend is on a first date, but for some reason, I feel a surge of courage coursing through me.  

 _Now’s your chance._  

My heart is thumping in my chest so strongly I can feel it in my ears, and I’m surprised she can’t hear it, too.  

 _It’s now or never,_  the voice challenges me.  

 _I can’t. I can’t._  

 _Just do it!_  

I take a deep breath. “You know, maybe s-sometime we could…”  

I trail off. Her eyes widen, just a fraction, and her face changes from contemplative to deer-in-the-headlights. 

She doesn’t say anything and I don’t continue.  

 _Crap. Crap. Crap._  

We both jump a little when we hear the diner door open. The last patron exits with a small wave, his payment on the table.  

I cross to the other side of the counter, walking over to collect his money. Suddenly, Lorelai grabs my arm. I turn to face her, but she doesn’t release me.  

“Maybe sometime we could…?” she looks up at me with curious eyes.  

 _Those damn eyes…_  

My heart is hammering again.  

 _Get a grip,_ I chide myself.  

I take another deep breath and send a tiny prayer out into the universe. “Maybe sometime we could do it again. This. The hanging out.”  

She quirks an eyebrow at me. “You want to hang out and play cards with me at the diner?” 

 _She’s not going to make this ea_ _sy_.  

“I mean if that’s what you want to do. Gives me a chance to kick your ass in poker.” 

 _Coward._  

She looks like she’s not really sure how to respond to this. “Uh sure. I would like that.” 

I try to stay calm even though my insides are doing somersaults. I look away and clear my throat. “But uh…If you want to, ya know, have dinner or see a movie first we can do that, too.” 

She gives me a quizzical look and tilts her head to the side. “I didn’t think you were a movie guy.” 

I shrug and look her straight in the face, the courage from earlier rushing back through me. “I can be a movie guy. You like movies.” 

She lets out a quiet laugh. “That I do. Good, bad, and in-between.” 

“So you in?”  

“Yeah. That sounds really nice.”  

I realize her hand is still on my arm. Still feeling bold, I remove her hand and place it in mine. The feeling is electric and thrilling.  

We both smile at each other, shyly at first, trying to suppress the idiotic grins threatening to overtake our faces. But we can’t help ourselves after I say, “It’s a date.” 

We stay frozen in that moment until we are interrupted by some funny guys sitting at the table a few feet away.  

“Get a room, you two!” Sookie giggles delightedly.  

“Yeah don’t you know this is a public place!” Jackson teases. 

I turn a million shades of red and move to walk away, but Lorelai stops me. She stands and pulls me closer to her, whispering in my ear, “They want a show? Let’s give them one.” She pulls back just slightly so that we are only a few inches apart. 

 _Now’s your chance._  

I lean in and press my lips to hers.  

Sookie and Jackson give us a wolf whistle, but quickly pretend to look away and give us a moment. 

It’s a kiss unlike any other. It’s what kisses are supposed to be. All of a sudden all those stupid love poems I had to read in high school make complete sense. This is what those guys were writing about.  

It’s longer than I anticipated, but shorter than I would like. When she pulls away, she’s grinning like a fool, which I know is a mirror of my own look.  

“This double date thing didn’t turn out so bad after all. I’ll have to thank Sookie later,” she says, giving me a wink. 

I laugh and make my way back behind the counter.  

 _I told you so,_  the voice inside my head reminds me. 

And for once, I’m glad I listened.   


End file.
